


What, Afraid?

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Canonical character deaths mentioned, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Gen, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Crazy strength or not, Caspar had a bone to pick with Dimitri. He may not have been very close to his uncle Randolph, but torturing him so brutally before his death wasn’t right.In the middle of an amazing arm wresting victory streak, Dimitri passed by with Marianne. Of course, Caspar would challenge him.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 21
Kudos: 73
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	What, Afraid?

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble for the Felannie Fever Discord Server prompt “write an interaction between two characters with no canonical dialogue” but I got really invested. I had wanted to draw a scene like this ages ago, so it was fun to write it instead. And fun to shamelessly include some of my fav ships.

“Ah, come on, Dimitri,” cajoled Caspar, a manic confidence in his speech despite the slur. “What? Afraid you’ll lose?”

He pounded the opposite side of the table, beckoning the prince to accept his challenge. His ale skittered a few inches away, jumping up and down with each powerful thump. Next to him Hilda frowned. Half the tavern’s attention was turned on them. Up until this moment, she was enjoying it, but not now when Caspar was being stupid.

Before them Dimitri gaped, completely flabbergasted. Marianne, gingerly linked on his arm, displayed a more refined and delicate astonishment. “Pardon?” he managed to say at last.

“Caspar,” Hilda interrupted carefully before said man could respond. She placed her hand soothingly on his bicep. “You promised you’d dance with me, remember?”

Caspar kept his gaze set on Dimitri and missed her perfected pout. A predatorial anger possessed him, replacing the competitive exuberance of minutes prior. “I will in a sec, Hil,” he dismissed. “I’m on a row right now and itching to add another win.” She whined pitifully, but that didn’t earn his attention either.

He definitely had been on a winning streak—the tally stood at fifteen wins and zero losses according to the enthusiastic reminders Caspar and several on-lookers sporadically proclaimed. The tavern’s patrons had gleefully joined in on the sport, cheering wildly each time Caspar slammed an opponent’s arm flat against the wood of the table. He reveled in the confirmation of his strength and Hilda reveled in the sexiness of his pride.

Perhaps she shouldn’t had praised so coquettishly, stroking his ego to such heights, encouraging him to pursue challenge after challenge. And perhaps, she herself, shouldn’t had seduced so many drinks out of the bartender. She liked to give him that benefit of the doubt that surely Caspar wouldn’t arm wrestle the owner of a Blaiddyd crest if he was sober. Then again, this was _Caspar_ , he probably would.

One thing was certain: Caspar’s winning streak would crash to a crippling halt if Dimitri accepted.

“You heard me!” Caspar sneered. “Let’s see if you’re stronger than a Bergliez when shit’s fair.” He extended his arm out on the table and flexed.

Dimitri's eye narrowed and he remained silent for several moments. The tavern fell still and silent—even the bard stopped playing music—awaiting the future the prince would choose.

“I understand,” Dimitri said with solemn resolve. “Very well, I will indulge you in this...game.”

“Great.” Mocking replaced zeal in Caspar’s tone as Dimitri settled into the chair on the other side of him.

Marianne stood behind her lover, fingers instinctively interweaving as if she could pray away an end to the conflict. Hilda straightened her skirts nervously and exchanged a wary glance with her best friend.

The crowd of spectators pushed closer, a ruckus of whistles, shouting, clapping, banging, and placed bets.

Despite the cheer that encircled them, the tension at the table was palpable. Caspar thrust his hand forward, banging it on the wood for emphasis and Dimitri hesitated to extend his own out. Finally their hands clutched around each other. Caspar squeezed his fingers tight around Dimitri’s, crushing them threateningly. Dimitri didn’t respond to the stimuli and kept his grip appropriately firm.

Hilda leaned forward, glancing nervously from Marianne to Dimitri to Caspar to Marianne again. She cleared her throat. “All right boys,” she began. “Fair match, okay? Please spare Marianne and me the trouble of having to patch you back up in the middle of night.”

She laughed nervously. “And, no…crests.” She looked to Dimitri who nodded without taking his eye off Caspar. “Start at the count of three: One…two…”

Hilda raised her hand up and counted the numbers down with her fingers.

Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. He closed it with a small shake of his head. Caspar’s fingers tensed even more around his.

“…three!” Hilda waved her arm out to announce the start of the arm wrestling match.

Caspar let loose a battle cry and propelled all his strength into pushing Dimitri’s arm down. The muscles from his neck to wrist flexed, straining his skin taut, the fruit of dedicated training on full display. His teeth bared wide, grinding against each other as a snarl escaped past them. Yet Dimitri’s arm held straight and stiff, the effort futile as if against an immovable stone wall. He didn’t even seem to try.

Hilda wanted to close her eyes. It was almost painful to watch. Across from her, Marianne’s nails dug into her knuckles and she bit her lip. In contrast to the girls’ anxiety, the tavern roared around them, caught up in the spectacle.

It was like watching the army clash against the impregnable walls of Fort Merceus. Caspar was strong, but Blaiddyd blood was stronger.

“Mocking me, huh?” Caspar fumed, mustering more power into his muscles from rage alone. Maybe Dimitri’s hand nudged down a little, but Hilda doubted it. “Can’t even fucking try, huh? Think I can’t take it? Is that it?”

His voice grew louder and more belligerent with each question. Yet the spectators cheered and jeered with even more volume, the commotion deafening the warriors’ conversation to distant ears.

“Caspar,” Dimitri tried, voice a conflict of guilt and empathy. “You are a very capable warrior and a fearsome force on the battlefield, but we both know that in a test of strength the odds are not in your favor. Please understand it is not my intention to ridicule you.”

The table vibrated under Caspar’s shaking arm. He scoffed, “Whatever! I can take you with one hand, just wait and see! That’s more than you gave Randolph!”

Regret flickered across the prince’s gaze, and when he spoke it was low with morose. “You have every right to hate me. I can not deny that his blood is on my hands. I would not blame you for wanting to take my life…” He paused before sighing deeply. “Perhaps even a part of me would be grateful if you did.”

“Dimitri!” Marianne blurted out, lips pulled in a frown.

Three pairs of eyes turned on her, and Hilda wanted nothing more than to rush over and hug that sorrow away. Luckily, or perhaps, unluckily, Caspar retorted.

“That really got Flèche far, didn’t it!” His effort had grown considerably weaker and fatigued. Now stubbornness was the only thing sustaining the rush of adrenaline. Dimitri’s hand still didn’t budge. “Believe me, I get revenge, respect it maybe, but they weren’t close enough to me that lopping your head off is worth it. What pisses me off is how you _tortured_ Randolph! Really enjoyed it I hear, like a crazy blood-thirsty beast!”

Caspar’s eyes narrowed into a viciously unforgiving leer.

The way Marianne’s eyes widened at the word “beast” didn’t past Hilda unnoticed . Her best friend tilted her head down and closed her eyes. Her hands trembled ever so slightly.

Dimitri didn’t hesitate to accept the slander. “I don’t deny it. I truly am a monster. He died with a brutality no man deserves. I dishonored your family’s name with such a gruesome execution.” He swallowed. “As I said...if you decided you wished to kill me-”

“You’re missing the whole fucking point!” Caspar bellowed at full volume, cutting Dimitri off. His grip tightened, fingers squeezing with all their might. “You really think that I’m the type of guy that’s gonna kill you after abandoning my country—my House—to fight for your cause?” Caspar slammed his free hand on the table. “Listen, I left because I felt it was _right!_ What Edelgard did, declaring war and dragging thousands of innocent people into this mess, I thought that was _wrong_!”

Dimitri’s head shot up and his mouth opened to speak, but before he could, Caspar continued, “You’ve done lots of shit I think was messed up, but I always felt most of it was for good reasons. When I was a kid maybe I’d think what you did was unforgivable, but…I’ve grown since then.” His voice softened ever so slightly. “No one’s perfect. We’ve all done stuff we aren’t proud of and gotta live with it. Stop being a big fucking coward talking about _dying_ to run away from your problems!” He furrowed his brow and his shout reverberated throughout the tavern. “Just fess up to your damn mistakes and we can all move on!”

Wide eyes stared back at Caspar and Dimitri remained stunned a long moment before breaking into a soft chuckle. “I suppose I haven’t shown much gratitude for your loyalty and aid, Caspar.”

“Yeah, you think?”

“Let me offer amends now.” He leaned forward and looked the other man straight in the eye, hoping to convey his sincere feelings. “I am truly honored that you raised your arms to my flag, that you fought by my side even when I was lost. And... I am unbelievable sorry for the fate of your uncle. I can never make it right with words alone, but I hope you can give me the chance to repent in some small way, ineffectual as it may be.”

Caspar’s mouth stretched into a wide smirk. “That’s a start. But if you really want to make it up to me become a just king and maybe don’t… listen to the cravings of the ‘monster’ or whatever ever again.”

“You’re right. I must live now to atone for all of my sins, to make peace with all the faces of those I have slaughtered. I hope I can count on your keen sense of justice to steer me true if I ever go astray.”

“Sure thing!”

Hilda and Marianne shared relieved little smiles before Marianne spoke up, nervous and gentle. She placed a slender hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “It’s a heavy burden, but I now believe the Goddess has sparred your life for that very reason. You are strong Dimitri. I am sure you can subdue the beast and become a magnificent king. A-and… you won’t be alone to do it!”

Her smile grew to a stunning radiance. Hilda audibly gasped.

Dimitri echoed her graceful expression and a tenderness reserved just for her crept into his tone. “Thank you, my beloved.” He placed his free hand atop hers, caressing a soothing circle with his thumb. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Caspar, chuckling ruefully. “I suppose, I must present you a fair fight.” With that, he pressed a minimal amount of power against Caspar’s arm, effortlessly plunging it halfway down. It took everything Caspar had to halt the descent and restrain it there.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” Caspar gritted, confidence pouring strength back into his weary muscles. His whole body shook and sweated under the stress. Nonetheless, his hand inched down further and further without so much as even a quiver from Dimitri’s own muscles.

The whole room held its breath in anticipation. The reigning champion was going to lose, completely and utterly outmatched against the future king.

Suddenly, Hilda spoke up with saccharine jest. “Woah! Did you just say, ‘Beloved’? Please save the pillow talk for the bedroom, Your Highness.” She snickered briefly before covering a hand over her mouth. “And please be gentle with Marianne when you do. I don’t think she could handle the full force of Blaiddyd strength!”

Marianne gaped and pink tinged her cheeks. Dimitri choked and heat burned his neck. Caspar blinked and missed what she said.

As he struggled to regain composure, Dimitri’s strength drained from his arm. Like lightning striking, Caspar pushed at just the right vulnerable moment. The prince’s arm slammed into the table with a thundering bang that sent ripples of awe and bewilderment throughout the crowd and both competitors’ bodies.

Hilda smirked. All according to her haphazard scheme. After all, she wasn’t about to let Caspar lose. She refused to allow him to sulk over the defeat. She preferred him carefree and happy and eager to indulge her in all the ways she desired that night.

The tavern broke into applause and boo’s. It quickly became a hubbub of exchanging money and a chorus of devastated and triumphant chatter.

For several moments, Caspar gaped at their hands, blinking furiously, refusing to believe that what he saw before him was real. “I won?” he croaked at last. He blinked up at Dimitri’s hot face. The heat radiated off him in waves. Marianne behind him wasn’t fairing much better. He cast another quick glance down at his hand on top of Dimitri’s.

Then it dawned on him what Hilda’s earlier statement actually meant. He gritted his teeth into a grimace and shot around on her. “Hilda! I wanted to win fair and square!” 

Chagrined, Marianne joined in with her own accusation, stuttering a whispered, “H-Hilda, t-that was completely inappropriate…y-you cheated!”

Hilda shrugged and smiled wryly, turning from Caspar to Marianne. “These things happen in war.”

She wrapped her arms around her irritated lover’s side, leaning her head on his shoulder. He stiffened and frowned, but she rolled out her bottom lip and fluttered her lashes. “Let’s dance now, pretty please?”

Caspar couldn’t stay mad when she looked at him like that. He sighed and stood. Turning to Dimitri, he said, “Well, good fight, man. Next time don’t go easy on me.” He offered out his hand.

Dimitri also rose and chuckled. His cheeks still contained a light blush as he accepted Caspar’s hand and shook it firmly. “I’d never dream of it. I must confess that I wouldn’t mind participating in this kind of duel again.”

“Great! I’ll hold you to that!”

Hilda gently tugged on Caspar’s arm, leading him away. She called over her shoulder, “Dimitri! Marianne! You should join us too!”

Dimitri offered his arm out with a anxious invitation. “I’m a horrible dancer, but...perhaps I shouldn’t let the fear rule me. Shall we?” Marianne accepted with a warm smile, weaving her arm gracefully through his.

“I’m not very graceful myself, but I agree,” she whispered. He lead her to the open floor of the room, following in suit behind a lively and flirtatious Hilda and Caspar.

The bard in the corner strummed his lute and his rich velvety voice belted an upbeat ballad, proclaiming the triumphant victories of the Kingdom army. The participants of the dance clapped to the rhythm, laughing as they twirled and jumped around each other at a fast beat.

As Hilda floated by Dimitri on her way back to Caspar’s arms, she whispered deviously to him, “It’s okay to be a bit of beast in the bedroom, you know.” He flushed darker than before and nearly tripped. “Ah, come on,” she taunted before skipping away. “What, afraid?”

**end**


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